The Carbon advocate. [volume] (Lehighton, Pa.) 1872-1924, 1887-07-23

She draws away from his touch, With
shudder, cxclaiming wildly:
"Paul--Pauli YOU must not love me!
Seek rot to unite your life with mine, for
the shadow of death is on my path.p
Paul smiles superior to her fears.
"My darling, If yoH love m!s, viii never
relipquish you. Death comes to all lives;
but it viii not fall the sooner on either Of
us because those lives are one" he says,
"But if my love SHOULD only bring you
misfortuae?" she urges.
II Will risk that, Constance. Health,
happiness, lie Itself, are nothing without
youP'
1t is Paul Ainslle's wedding-day. The
sunlight streams through the stained glass
windows, casting gorgeous tints on the
church foor.
1le qeFeHQny begins, tie solemn words
are spoken.
! Paul stretches forth his hand to plight
their troth, while Constance's slight fingers
flutter into his palm.
He is about to press them in a warm
clasp, when an icy hand steals in between,
and Q shadowy form stands before the
bride.
Her arm falls to her side. An awful pal
lor comes upon her face.
With lips apart, with eyes listended in
horror, she confronts the phantom; then,
with one long, wild cry: "Wilfridl Will
fridF' she falls like a stone into Paul's
arms.
The bridal guests croyd round her; there
| is hum of voices, a whispered murmur of
sound; but Constance knows nothing, sees
nothing.
White and still, with closed eyelids like
the dead, she remains, and thus be bears
her from the church.
In the ss!me stste she is borne from the
carriage, and laid upon her bed.
As her doctor now, Paul stands beside
| his l9ge, n2 other Gan he suffer to attend
her. The hours pass on--the long hours
fraught with anxiety. The evening closes
in rs Paul still keeps watch beside his patti
ent. No change has come to that rigid
form--thst marble-llke face, Constance
tles stiH jl} 2 stiipGr, reseWbiilg aeatA.
Hep levsF's heart seems breaking He
has tried all restoratives in vain.
E4Eed from joy $ greatest height TO woes
deepest abyss, he scarce can bear the pain
and live.
He throws himself upon his knees beside
the couch, and clqspips her inaliDete form
to his throbhing hesrt in q paroxylsm of
despair, be plo9ns:
''oh. Constance, ny BELOVED, coNe back
to life end mei'
As If in answer to his prayer she moves,
her dark eyes opening upon him with wild
gaze as of feari then there comes passion
ate weeping, which shakes her rep bead
to foot.
"Thank GodP' cries Paul. "Her ysason
will be spared"
The storm of tears spends itself at last,
and Constance beckons to her lover.
.'Send theln away" she says Of those
who surround her. II have much to say
to you, Paul; but we must be alone.'
/ They are left together
/ Risiag from the couch, ,she tettars TOWARD
him, stretching out her arms.
Take me- Paul, my love. for the last
last timeW she cries, in 2 voice qaiyesa9g
with pain.
| He draws her to his beart; he holds her
there as though nothing again shall sever,
them, aud thus she tells hip the stery of
her life.
Scarcely has she spoken, ere Paui knows
their doom is sealed; that phantom form
is before him: that ley grasp seems 70 freeze
his blood with nameiess horror,
She has loved Wilfrid Denver.
The letter he had laid on the young oii-
GERS cold breast contained her acceptance
of his Offered hand.
When the Psys of bis death reached her,
she had resolved to live npwedded for his
sake; but after years bad passed, Pa-nl's,
devoted love won her heart; and, in spite
of warning presentiment, she accepted
him.
Paul muses. deeply for time.
i'Wilfrid DenYer was my friepd,Y he
says st last. Poor Young fellow, how lit
tie | thought that the Constance he loved
would come 70 be ,Pine alsoI'
She sbiyeTs,
'Alasl never Yoursl No thought of mar
riage can ever again be between usl ] re-
lease you from our engagement" says her
sad voice.
Constance" cries Paul, "do you seri-
ously mean that this phantom is TO sever
usP"
''It must be sol am bound to the dead,
and eyep ip the grave be claims my prom
ise.r'
"But, Constance, I-p
She interrupts him.
dearest, look here"
Taking from her desk folded paper, she
puts it into his hand.
II is Wilfrid DehyeT's last letter. On the
first page are traced these words;
sit may be that ere receive your ans
werz-the answer WHICH viii bring joy or
desolatsonz-I shall be lying dead upon the
battlefield. Yet, should that be my fate,
} believe that even in death shall know if
/ you return my love. And, my darling /
fear that should another claim your troth
in after years, l shall rise even from my
A grave to stand between you."
h Paul reads this In silence.
"You see," Constance says sadly, evil
a frid keeps his word. pledged myself to
him; he claims that troth in death. Paul,
say farewell. shall never be your wife!